


Another Terrible Day

by AuroraKant



Series: Batfam Week2020 [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Batfam Week 2020, Canon? What is canon?, Duke Thomas-centric, Duke thinking about his place in the family, Gen, I am mixing all the Canons!, Introspection, People Die and Come back, nobody actually dies in this fic, they did that before this story started
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23081368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant
Summary: Summer has begun and Duke is without direction. The Manor is cast into the shadow of grief and Duke is wondering: What is his place in the family? Who is he in this thing they call the Bat-Clan?Day 2:  Hurt/Comfort |Underappreciated Family Members| Dark Batfam AU
Relationships: Duke Thomas & Everyone
Series: Batfam Week2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657645
Comments: 16
Kudos: 119





	Another Terrible Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya!!!  
> Thanks so much for the love on last chapter! You guys are the best! <3  
> This is one is a bit different then my usual stuff but I wanted to try and write a character I don't usually write: Duke.  
> Because he definitely deserves the love and the attention! ^^  
> Like, Critique, Cry... have fun with it!

Theoretically Duke knew that he came into the ‘family’ at a weird point in time. Yet it was something else entirely to have to face the empty Manor every day. Most of the time it was just him and Alfred eating breakfast together so the other didn’t have to be all alone. On some days Bruce came down from the study – out of the Batcave – with shadows under his eyes and a beard on his chin. It was disconcerting.

And don’t get him wrong: Duke could absolutely understand that the death of one of your kids fucks you up, but it was weird living with a grieving family if you didn’t know the person that died. And if no one else was there to really grief besides the father of the kid and his butler.

So, yeah, Duke had come into the ‘family’ at a weird point in time. Because theoretically he had siblings. Half a fuckton of siblings. And yet he hadn’t met a single one of them since Bruce became his foster dad. He had met them before, of course, during the Robin War and he had actually really liked Damian back then. The kid was clearly someone that needed a friend in his corner and Duke had been ready to be just that, but before they had any chance to really bond, there was yet another world ending problem. And now Damian only rarely showed his face at the Manor, rather spending time with the Teen Titans hording secrets. What secrets? Duke had no idea, but the way Damian behaved made it clear that it was a big one. How Bruce hadn’t caught up on it yet, Duke couldn’t understand. The man was supposed to be the world greatest detective and yet his 12-year-old son was capable of hiding who knows what from him. And Damian wasn’t even subtle!

But, yeah, that meant Duke’s one ally from before wasn’t really here all that much. It was still summer though; school was out, and Duke had nothing to do. The Manor didn’t really lend itself for unadulterated fun. So, most of the time Duke spent his day wandering, trying not to be in the way of Alfred, who Duke could readily agree was the only sane one in the bunch of people the Manor had attracted over the years. Why the man hadn’t left, was a question that popped up every time Duke himself thought about leaving, about escaping the silent, grief-stifled hallways. And yet both of them never did. Maybe Alfred wasn’t that sane after all.

Jason was another person Duke had found to be somewhat nice to be around before. The boy – man? – had a wicked smile and an even more wicked sense for danger, which Duke tried to avoid but never managed to do. Jason was fun. The way fights with a crocodile were fun, or explosions, or street races. You probably shouldn’t engage, but there was something alluring that egged you on to step closer. But none of them were allowed to talk to Jason anymore. He had been thrown out of the ‘family’ whatever the fuck that meant. Apparently, Jason had shot the Penguin on live TV; Duke wouldn’t know he hadn’t been in Gotham that day. But now, Jason was off limits. And to be honest, Duke liked being the Signal way too much to endanger it just for a chance to talk to a person he met like twice.

The early afternoon sun on his face managed to break Duke out of his spiraling thoughts. His aimless wandering had let him outside, onto the Manor Grounds. Just looking at the enormous expanse of land made Duke feel a bit sick. Almost everything his eyes could see right now, the green hills, the pond behind that line of trees, the flower beds and carefully cultivated Box tress, belonged to Bruce. Not one person on this planet should own this much. Heck, Duke and his parents hadn’t been poor. Sure, they weren’t rich either, but for most of his life, their tiny apartment on the West Side had felt like the world. Seeing all of this was surreal. Weird. Wrong. People weren’t meant to exist alone in giant estates, in fucking manors, they were meant to live next to each other, together. Humans were pack animals, striving for companionship. Wayne Manor was the exact opposite.

Duke wondered how long he could walk in one direction without meeting another person. A quick glance at the sky told him that he had at least six hours until it was time for dinner. He could start with a 2 hour walk and see how far he got. If that wasn’t enough to reach civilization, he would try again tomorrow. It’s not as if he had any other plans right now.

Duke started walking in the direction of the pond. He wanted some water.

Maybe this was the explanation for Bruce’s behavior that Duke had been searching for. The reason, why Bruce was so weird, so observant and yet so blind. Growing up in a place like this, surrounded by the memorabilia of your dead parents had to mess with your head. How would Duke feel if he was the only person for miles, besides a loving but stuffy butler, with nothing but the painful reminder of his parents by his side? Probably a lot like he was feeling right now.

Memories regarding his own childhood tried to resurface and the closer Duke came to the pond the harder it was to repress them. He still remembered that day in the park when he was six and both of his parents had a free day for once. They were feeding the ducks when tiny Duke had exclaimed that he wanted to be an astronaut. His parents had laughed, in that sweet exasperated way only your mom and dad could, and Duke had sticked out his tongue at them and his dad told him that, of course, Duke would be an astronaut. His mom had smiled then, said that Duke would make a perfect doctor, just like them. Didn’t he want to be like them? And Duke could still see himself replying: _No, you are already here. There is no need for a new Thomas’ doctor because you will be there to do it. I will be an astronaut. I will wave at you every time my spaceship passes you by_. His dad had ruffled his hair, told him, he could be a Space Doctor, but Duke had been adamant. He wouldn’t have to be a doctor because his parents were already there. And they would never leave him.

His steps faltered. He had reached the pond, tears streaming down his face, caught in the memories of a happier time.

_Look at me now, mom, I am not a doctor, I am not an astronaut, though I’ve been to space, I am one of these superheroes you hated so much_

He missed his parents. He wanted his dad’s soft and warm hand in his hair, his mother’s scolding and her hugs after he came home from school. He wanted Johnnycake and the fried chicken from the little corner joint that sold the best in the whole of Gotham. He wanted to hear the familiar sound of his neighbors yelling and dancing and laughing. He wanted the smells of the West Side, the familiarity, the community. He wanted his home.

But he would probably never have any of that again. But there was still hope. There would always be hope. It was the way of a hero and the way Duke had chosen. Didn’t mean it made it any easier. It took him a few minutes to calm himself enough, so he could take a look at his surroundings. On the other side of the pond, Duke could make out a fence. A fence? So soon? Were the Manor grounds smaller than Duke had anticipated? With a new goal in mind, Duke walked on.

The memories wouldn’t leave him. At least not completely. But between the images of Riko yelling about Tamagotchi, his mom’s ‘I know what you did’ look, Mia’s horrible rendition of Jingle Bells, and his father’s sweet voice commenting on sports, others started to appear too: Damian’s grin after they walked out of the movie theater together, Bruce’s pat on the back after doing a good job, Dick’s weird face after seeing Bruce eat a burger with a fork and a knife… these memories were sparse - they hadn’t really had the time to make any yet - but they were there too.

Duke’s life was changing. What a horrible, horrible thought. Especially since the life he led now wasn’t any more secure than the one he had before. Probably even less so. He might have money now, but Supervillain attacks no longer threatened him peripherical, instead they were aimed at him. And at his new ‘family’.

He just wished he knew them: Damian had vanished to New York, Jason had been banished, Bruce was grieving and so was Alfred, Dick was…

He had reached the fence and one look behind him brought all his thoughts to a screeching halt: Behind the fence – and a small gate that he could see now – was a graveyard. A fucking graveyard. From where he stood Duke could see a fair amount of old, partly destroyed gravestones. It was probably a family graveyard because, of course, Bruce was just that rich. But that was not what had made Duke stop. No, it was the frankly shocking number of fresh graves that stood out to him.

Before he could stop himself, his feet had passed through the gate, beelining towards the oldest of the new graves. He came to a halt however before that: The first names that caught his eyes were Thomas and Martha Wayne. Bruce’s parents. It made sense for them to be laid to rest here and still it was a painful reminder that his own parents might not be dead but were just as unreachable as the bodies of Thomas and Martha.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to find something else to focus on: The next grave, newer, yet still a few years old had the name Jason Peter Todd engraved on it. Yeah, Duke knew that Jason had died – the man wouldn’t shut up about it - but it felt so much more real standing in front of the stone that proclaimed the death to the world. It was hard to see the dates and not think of a smaller Jason, one who was probably a lot happier than the adult one currently was. And yet death had come for him. Would probably come for him again, someday.

No! Duke shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought and all those that wanted to follow. Their line of work was dangerous, but most of them came back. Jason had come back before.

And so had Bruce. Duke wandered deeper into the graveyard, stopping in front of the grave of his guardian: Here laid Bruce Thomas Wayne. Hah, you bet not. Duke had only heard the tale of Bruce’s trip through time, but he still remembered the city knowing that Batman was a changed man.

Come to think off, Duke had never lived in a world without superheroes. Batman had a Robin before Duke turned three. He never questioned it, but now he wondered what it must have been like to grow up without a bat-shaped shadow in the sky. Did Bruce see how much he shaped Gotham with his mission for justice or was the man to focused on his failures to notice the hope he brought? Duke honestly didn’t know. Bruce was an enigma on the best of days and ever since Tim died, Duke failed to connect.

Duke’s eyes moved away from Bruce’s grave and found Damian’s instead. The little pest had been eleven when he died. Something curdled in Duke’s stomach and he turned away before he defaced a grave, just because he recoiled at the idea of children dying in their parent’s war. He knew that he was also just a child, but he was 15. He had thoughts and reason and a childhood. Damian had neither. No matter before his death or after. In that moment Duke swore to himself that he would try more. The next time Damian dared to show his face at the Manor, Duke would strike him down and force him to have fun. It was his big brother duty.

Turning around had done more than just saving him from throwing up: It had directed him directly in the path of yet another gravestone with a familiar name. Richard ‘Dick’ John Grayson. Duke knew, of course, that Dick’s death had been faked, even if he didn’t really remember the circumstances surrounding it that made it necessary. And even later on, the two of them hadn’t really hit it off, with Dick being a quite nice but manipulative asshole and the older going back to saving the world before any of them could react. But still, anything would be better than what happened. Because while Duke didn’t really like him, he would have liked a chance to get to know the infamous charming Dick Grayson outside of a city saving scenario. And now he would probably never get to do that: Because Dick Grayson was no longer. Instead Ric was sleeping in a cap in Blüdhaven, the family was grieving, and everyone was unhappy even though the guy was still alive. Sometimes Duke wondered if he should be the one to reach out. Dick hadn’t really known him, after all. They could get to know each other without any (or at least with less) of the baggage.

But he would never do that. At least not in the near future. And why would he? It wasn’t his place.

Sometimes he really wondered what his place was.

This graveyard wouldn’t give him an answer. Instead it presented two graves to Duke: Stephanie Brown and Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. The Stephanie one was ‘just’ a memorial, created because her mom probably wanted a proper burial for her. Duke met with Steph sometimes and she had told him about her death, but not about the fact that there was a stone erected for her at Wayne Manor. She probably didn’t know either.

Tim’s grave on the other hand was the newest one. The one, that had not yet produced a zombie or a secret agent or a superpowered rage demon. It was just a grave. The grave of a person Duke hadn’t known. Someone Duke would have loved to meet, considering the way Steph talked about Tim, the way Alfred and Bruce hurt by his absence. He had seen Tim, but Duke couldn’t remember an actual conversation to save his life. Instead he was cast into living in the home of a dead person, surrounded by grief unable to grief himself.

Really, what was his place in Wayne Manor? In the Bat-Cave?

Duke knew he had come to the family at a weird point in time. Damian was away, Jason banished, Dick not remembering, Tim dead. It was just Bruce, Alfred and him.

Duke really didn’t know what his place was – only that these graves didn’t know the answer either.

Only that there might be a place for him next to these graves one day.

Because looking around, seeing the gravestones, the late afternoon sun catching in the pond, sending red and yellow prisms over the grounds, the birds sitting in box trees. Seeing all of that made only one thing clear: No matter what he did with his life, how it went, where he went, there would be a grave waiting for him back here at Wayne Manor grounds with his name on it.

He turned around. He would have to hurry if he wanted to be back in time for dinner. There was no need to keep Alfred waiting.


End file.
